


Wasted Days

by wyvern



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunkenness, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvern/pseuds/wyvern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be only fun and sex. If they'd kept up that... <i>thing</i>, it'd had ended badly. Arthur's sure of that and he has no regrets. Because he's sure. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted Days

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on the song 'Nothing' by The Script. There's an almost-quote from it in the beginning of the fic, but I had to change a 'her' to 'him'... for obvious reasons. 
> 
> This fic HAS been beta'd! It's been done by the fantastic [ Ceebee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceebee/pseuds/Ceebee), without whom this story would greatly lack both coherency and a lot of proper grammar. Thank you. If any errors remain, though, they are solely my own.
> 
> I make no profit from this, and 'Merlin' belongs to BBC and Shine.
> 
>  
> 
> Look what Ana made for this fic! It's [beautiful](http://ilovetextingandscones.tumblr.com/post/47730938671/im-sorry-i-was-scared-because-i-care-because-i)!

\----------  
  
As they take me to my local down the street  
I'm smiling, but I'm dying trying not to drag my feet  
They say a few drinks will help me to forget him  
But after one too many I know that I'll never  
Only they can't see where this is gonna end  
They all think I'm crazy, but to me it's perfect sense  
( _Nothing_ – The Script)  
  
\----------

  
  
Arthur's comfortably slouching on the sofa, and with a beer in his hand and the footie match on the telly, it should be a perfect Saturday night. But it isn't, because Arthur broke it off with Merlin two weeks ago and he can't understand why he's so upset over it, still. It was _he_ who broke it off, after all. _He_ should be relieved that the... the _thing_ they had going didn't go any further -- that it didn't develop into something else. Something that he couldn't get away from.

He's seen Merlin twice since then; once outside the on-campus coffee shop (Merlin hadn't seen him, but he had looked so tired and harried that Arthur had felt guilty about it for the entire day afterwards), and once when their gaze had briefly met in class. Merlin's wonderful, blue eyes had widened slightly, and although Merlin hadn't showed any other sign of affection, Arthur couldn't help but give him a small smile. Merlin's jaw had immediately tightened, his whole body tensing as he turned away. Nothing the lecturer had said after that had edged into Arthur's brain because the only thing he had been able to concentrate on was that small lock of hair, that _lovely_ lock of hair, at the nape of Merlin's neck – that slender neck that tastes of nothing else... it just tastes _Merlin_.

_Fuck. Fuckfucketyfuckfuck This has got to stop. This is pathetic._

The two football commentators argue about a possible offside and the raised voices rouse Arthur from his thoughts of Merlin's perfect neck. But still, he can’t quite stop thinking about him and although he's sure –- because he _is_ sure, right? Yes, he's sure that he’s made the right decision -– he still feels just a little bit miserable. 

It's the last year of uni and they both have just a couple of months left before they'll end up in different parts of the country, so what's the point of them getting involved now? It'll just end in heartbreak, but no matter how hard Arthur tries to justify his decision to himself the way he did to Merlin, he can't make it stick. 

_I'm moving to Scotland. Merlin's staying in London._ But why not be happy the last few months of school? _I'm moving to Scotland. Merlin's staying in London._ Maybe he'll be able to find work there, too? _Long distance relationships don't ever work._ So take him with you! _Long distance relationships don't e–-_

There's a knock on the door and Arthur is, once again, roused from the prison that is his own treacherous thoughts. _Maybe it's Merlin?_

But it isn't. It’s Leon, and Arthur can't help but to feel slightly disappointed, because a small part of him had hoped it _would_ be Merlin, despite the fact that Merlin had no reason to come. Arthur hadn't exactly been the best person ever when he “ended” it. _Really? “Ended”? Is that the best way to put it? They hadn't... they hadn't actually been serious or anything. They had just hung out. Fooled around a little. Had recreational sex._ There had been something more there, though, and Arthur knows it. That’s the reason he feels so damn guilty.

“Hey,” says Leon. “You're coming out with us tonight.”

“Okay,” Arthur answers automatically. Leon really is impossible to argue with when he's already decided on something, and why shouldn't Arthur go? Maybe his friends can take his thoughts off stupid Merlin and his stupid cheekbones and totally adorable elephant ears. _Argh, stop it!_

“Who else is coming?”

Leon eyes him suspiciously, like he can see where his thoughts had wandered to. 

“Gwaine, Percy, Lance... and Morgana.”

Arthur groans, “Morgana? Why on Earth would you bring her?”

“She already knew,” Leon says, but he looks slightly abashed.

“Of course she did,” Arthur sighs. “She always does.” 

Leon watches him carefully, then firmly states, “We're meeting everyone in thirty minutes. Get a move on.” 

“Okay,” says Arthur, but doesn't move and doesn't meet Leon's eyes.

They've been friends for too long –- Leon knows Arthur well enough to realise that something's wrong but he doesn't say anything. Not yet anyway.

Eventually Arthur sighs resignedly, “I'll go change,” then escapes to his room and closes the door.

The action was more of a reflex than anything else –- Leon's already seen him naked on multiple occasions, such as in the showers at the gym. _And there was the ill-advised sex a couple of years ago_ , his brain reminds him. He shrugs that thought away, since it really hadn't been a pleasant experience. They've come to an unspoken agreement to never, _ever_ , mention that drunken debacle.

Rummaging through his entire wardrobe in an attempt to find a clean shirt that's good enough for going to the pub, he happens upon something he hadn't expected to see ever again. It's a red tee-shirt that's rather washed out, but had obviously been bright red when it was new. Arthur holds it with both hands, stroking the soft fabric with his thumbs. 

He shouldn't, but he can’t help himself when he bends his head and sniffs it. It’s not newly washed and doesn't smell of detergent anymore. It smells even better. Arthur knew what it would smell of when he found it, and he knew it would make him think of Merlin, languidly spread out on his bed, his dark hair ruffled and his mouth slightly open, breathing calmly in a post-sex deep sleep.

Suddenly Arthur's chest hurts _a lot_ , and he folds himself over his crossed arms, knees buckling, as he tries to protect himself against this sudden and unwelcome feeling of guilt.

He breathes through his nose, fighting to get rid of the thoughts, to forget about _stupid_ Merlin, and instead focus on what a great night he'll have with his friends. Maybe he'll even pull someone –- someone easy, someone forgettable. Someone who's definitely _not_ Merlin.

“Arthur?”

Leon's outside the bedroom door and Arthur quickly gets up from where he's crouched on the floor. His chest still hurts a little but he schools his face into some sort of bored neutrality and opens the bedroom door.

“Yeah, I just couldn't find a clean shirt,” he says. 

He's forgotten that he's still holding the red tee and Leon glances down at it, then back up at Arthur, eyebrows furrowing quizzically. 

Arthur doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. The tee ends up at the floor beside the bed, and when the men leave the apartment Arthur hasn't thought of Merlin for ten whole minutes.

 

\--------------------

 

The Great Dragon is the gang's favourite pub near the university and its clientele is young and can be quite rowdy. The group squeeze in and find themselves a free table in a corner. Percy and Lance immediately engage in a discussion about the Liverpool derby game yesterday, and although Arthur should have something to say about that, he keeps quiet. To be honest, he doesn't really want to be here, but he appreciates the effort his friends are making and stays obediently for the first, second, third, and fourth round of beer, drinking and laughing at his friends' jokes. Leon tries to bring Merlin up after the second beer but Arthur makes a really bad joke instead and the whole thing is forgotten.

At some point, everything gets just a little bit blurry and the loudness of all the people in the pub starts to hurt Arthur's ears. _Strange_ , he thinks. _Ears_ , he thinks. _Merlin._

That, as it happens, is all it takes for the pain to return. He closes his eyes and it's with massive effort that he manages to shake away the thoughts of Merlin and stop the inexplicable tears that try to fight their way out from behind his eyelids. He's _pathetic_.

He sneakily reaches down into his pocket and extracts his phone. Morgana clearly isn't as drunk as the others though, because she quickly snatches the mobile from his hands. 

“Brother dear,” she says. “Calling someone?”

 _Fuck._

“No.”

“Oh, sweetcheeks, you've never been a good liar. Not even when we were children.”

She waits for him to answer, but he doesn't.

“You were going to call Merlin.”

Arthur keeps quiet because he knows that answering now would just agitate her. She's like a rabid dog sometimes and the only escape is to try and back away into the shadows and then run like hell. Unfortunately, that tactic doesn't seem likely to work now. 

“I know you're heartbroken,” Morgana says, “but what I don't know is why. It's obvious the guy likes you, so why did he end it? What reason did he give you?”

It takes a moment before Arthur answers, and when he does it's in a whisper.

“He didn't. I did.”

This apparently throws Morgana, who says loudly, _too_ loudly, “You _what...?_ ” and fixes him with her ‘how could you’ glare. “Oh dear God, Arthur. Why?”

Arthur blushes and turns away from her, only to notice how the rest of his friends are now watching them and listening closely to how this conversation is going to play out. Not that they don't already know, of course. No one beats Morgana. _Ever._

“I... It's such a short amount of time before school ends...” Arthur tries. 

Not surprisingly, this explanation does not go over well with Morgana.

“Oh my fucking God,” she sighs. 

Arthur realises then just how much he's fucked up. He knows it because Morgana raves at him a lot but he never takes her seriously until she quiets down and her voice gets the infamous tinge of disappointment. It's there now and Arthur shudders slightly.

“So what am I supposed to do, Morgs?” he asks. “I ended it. He won’t even look at me anymore, and even if he did...” He takes a deep breath and backtracks slightly. “It would've gotten messy if we'd have kept that... that _thing_ up. This must be far less painful than having to end it when we're further down the rabbit hole.”

Arthur can practically see the ‘I don’t believe this shit for a second’ showing in Morgana's face. She watches him for a good minute before reaching over and giving him the phone back.

“Call him,” she says simply. Then she gets up, throws Arthur an air kiss over the table, waves to the others, and leaves. 

Arthur doesn't call Merlin. Instead, he walks away from the table, only to return a little while later carrying a tray of tequila shots.

 

\--------------------

 

Arthur's laughter is too loud – he can hear that it’s exaggerated and not quite natural, but he certainly doesn't care right now. Percy left the group after the first two shots, exiting the pub under shouted accusations that he's a lightweight –- something no one really can accuse Percy of being in any other aspect, since he's as big as a small house –- but he's good-humoured and won't take offence, Arthur's pretty sure of that.

Lance is on the phone with Gwen and he looks so besotted that Arthur wants to punch him in the face. He doesn't want to see happiness –- he wants to get _fucked_ , that's what he wants to do. 

Very unsteadily, he gets up and wobbles across the room towards the bar. There's a man standing with his back towards him, and Arthur likes how his backside looks. That ass... it reminds him of Merlin's. 

_Fuck. Don't think of Merlin, don't think of–-_

Merlin. Because when the man turns around, it _is_ Merlin. _What the fucking hell and everything that is unholy and also... what?_

“What...?” Arthur asks aloud, bitterness rising in his throat.

Merlin looks broken for a second, before seemingly realising how drunk Arthur is. When he does, his eyes narrow, but he won't quite meet Arthur’s gaze. The minuscule smile appearing at the corner of his mouth might be a little bit mean, but it's so subtle that it’s hard to discern.

“Arthur,” he says. His voice trembles slightly, but there's no other signs that he's nervous. 

“You asshole,” Arthur says, taking a moment to stare at his ex's _gorgeous_ lips before he stalks off. _Why?_

What he doesn't count on is Merlin following him, and when he feels the grip on his upper arm, he turns angry on top of bitter and sad and horny. 

_Fuck you, Merlin. Making me feel this way, making my life a living_ hell _although I've done nothing wrong –- fucking lickable ass and stupid face and bloody contagious laugh that I'll never hear again. Just... just leave me the hell alone._

When the grip turns insistent on his bicep, Arthur turns around and takes a swing at Merlin. He's not even close to actually hitting anything, though, and almost topples over. In his head, his sober self slow claps sarcastically.

“Right,” Merlin says, his voice shaking with barely contained anger. “Well, why don't you and your friends stay. You certainly don't seem drunk enough yet. I'm leaving.”

And he does, leaving Arthur standing in the middle of the pub, feeling decidedly chagrin and even more pathetic now than he did five minutes ago.

 

\------------------

 

After switching back to beer Arthur feels slightly better, but it still can't stop the flashbacks of his and Merlin's time together, replaying over and over in his mind. Two fucking months of laughter and sex. _Awesome_ sex, to be honest. 

Without even thinking about what he's doing, Arthur dials the familiar number on his phone, and waits. 

There are three signals before it goes to voicemail. _He's screening the call. The bloody fucker._

He tries three more times before giving up. Leon laughs at something Arthur doesn't care about, and when Lance leans over to whisper something in Leon's ear, Arthur loses it. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He needs to see Merlin –- talk to him, be close to him. _Touch him._

Because they really are excellent together. _Were. Are?_ Their sweaty bodies slot together in a way that Arthur's never experienced before, and Merlin's tiny ass fits Arthur's hands so well –- his cock is thin and a little bit curved, but it's longer than Arthur's, and it’s just _perfect_. The mere thought of it sends a slight shiver down Arthur's spine. 

When did this happen? _When did he lose it like this?_ Arthur never loses it. 

He wrenches open the pub door and has just staggered onto the pavement when a shout interrupts his thoughts and he can see, out of the corner of his eye, Leon moving behind him.

“Arthur!”

Arthur ignores him and doesn't stop –- there's nothing in this pub for him, because the only thing he wants is Merlin and he needs to get to him, _now_. He needs to capture those stupid lips with his, and to kiss Merlin's idiotic elephant ears and his pale neck. He needs to curl his hand into Merlin's hair and keep him steady when he tells him that he... that he... 

And he needs to _taste_ Merlin, because he can't quite remember the flavour of his skin anymore. He wants to get on his knees and worship all that is _Merlin_. All of him, every single inch of the person who is so angry at him that he can’t even–-

The sound of squealing tyres when the car breaks is so close, _so fucking close_ , that Arthur snaps out of his fantasy. 

“Sorry! Sorry...” he says to no one in particular before breaking into a very unsteady run.

The woman driving the car has gotten out onto the street but Arthur can't hear whatever it is that she's shouting and she's getting smaller by the second anyway.

After about a minute of wobbly running, he trips on something and falls face-first onto the pavement. 

“Ouch...”

_Yeah, eloquently put. Idiot._

He steadies himself on a wall and gets up on his feet. His mouth tastes like iron and it takes a few seconds before he realises he's bleeding from somewhere. _The nose._

But Arthur doesn't feel any pain and although he can no longer run, he knows where Merlin lives. It's not far. _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. Please, Merlin, don't hate me._

It's the thought of Merlin that keeps Arthur upright now, because he suspects that he's started crying along the way – either that or it has started to rain, but his clothes feel suspiciously dry so it's probably the former. 

There's a man across the road and it's Merlin. Arthur's sure.

“Merlin!”

The man’s shoulders tense, but he doesn't slow down.

“Merlin! Stop!”

 _Maybe it isn't Merlin?_ Arthur slips on something again and almost falls. With an enormous effort and a bit of luck, he doesn't, but the man has turned a corner and is out of sight. 

_Fuckfuckfuck._

“Merlin!” Arthur shouts again, just to make sure.

Nothing. _Nothing, nothing, nothing._

Sitting down on the pavement, Arthur gives up. He takes his phone out of his pocket and sends Merlin a text message.

**I'm sorry. I was scared because I care.**

_Because I love you._

He sends it. 

 

\--------------------

 

Merlin answers a good fifteen minutes later. 

**Are you close by? Call me if you are.**

Arthur stares at the message for a moment, then gets up and starts walking towards Merlin's house before he places the call. He's just a few streets away. This time, Merlin answers the phone on the second signal. 

“Hi.”

“Merlin, I–-”

“Don't, Arthur. Just get here, and we'll talk.”

“I'm outside.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“I'm hanging up now.”

Merlin does hang up then, but within seconds he opens the door and his tall, thin body creates a strange shadow on the ground. His too-big bathrobe he has wrapped around himself almost touches the floor and his expression turns slightly shocked when he sees Arthur's face. There's a pause and then he quietly gestures for him to come in. Once Arthur has shyly taken a few steps into the narrow hallway, Merlin closes the door behind them. 

Without a word, Merlin grabs Arthur's wrist and leads him up the stairs and into the first floor bathroom. Arthur's so tired that he can't think of anything except Merlin –- how Merlin busies himself in the cabinet; how Merlin's fingers touches Arthur's lips and nose; how Merlin worries his bottom lip when he tries to wash away the blood on Arthur's face without hurting him. _How beautiful Merlin is._

“Ow...” Arthur clenches his teeth while Merlin finishes up, nose stinging. 

“What the hell did you do, Arthur? Did you pick a fight with someone?”

“What? No!” Arthur exclaims, a bit affronted, but he can see that Merlin doesn't believe him. “I... I fell.”

Merlin hums quietly but doesn't say anything more. 

“Merlin, I'm so, so sorry,” Arthur says. “I know I messed up, but I don't want to be without you.”

There are a few seconds of silence before Merlin sighs. 

“You can stay on the sofa downstairs tonight, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Arthur nods. 

“I'll get you a pillow and a blanket.”

 

\--------------------

 

When Arthur wakes up he's feeling very, very sick and has to quickly stumble up the stairs to the loo to throw up. He folds his arms over the toilet seat and rests his forehead against them. _Hungover. Congratulations, genius._ The bathroom is so quiet and cool that he falls asleep again, leaning over the toilet, and doesn't wake up until Merlin kicks him lightly with his foot.

“Are you alright now?” he asks. 

His voice is normal, maybe a bit raspy, but when Arthur looks up at him he can see the defensiveness in his posture. Merlin's leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and shoulders slightly hunched. He watches Arthur warily and the dark circles under his eyes confirm that he hasn't slept well. His worn appearance breaks Arthur's heart a little bit, because he's probably the reason for it.

The pain wells up in him again and he needs to look away to be able to get the words out. 

“I screwed up. I got so scared when we worked so well. It was supposed to only be fun and sex, but then it was so much more, and I... I panicked.”

Silence. 

“Please forgive me. I'm so sorry.”

More silence. 

Arthur's struggling to keep it together. _Merlin's changed his mind._ In the end, he shifts his whole body away from Merlin, turns his back on him –- doesn't want him to see him suffer. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe calmly when a memory of Merlin laughing flashes through his mind. 

He has to make Merlin understand. _He needs to understand. He needs to, he needs to, please God, please make him forgive me. Please, please,_ please. 

“I really am sorry,” Arthur whispers.

Then, finally, he feels the light touch of a hand stroking his hair, followed by the warmth of Merlin's body slowly wrapping itself around his. Arthur's trembling uncontrollably and maybe it's the hangover or maybe it’s the relief and the pain finally leaving him. Merlin's arms are like a lifebuoy, and Arthur clings to them as if his life really does depend on it.

They sit like that for a long time. Arthur's breathing eventually calms and Merlin's grip on him loosens, although he doesn't completely let go. When Arthur turns his head and looks at Merlin, for the first time this time around, he's met by a small smile.

“I'm sorry,” he says again.

“I know. You told me,” Merlin replies with a hint of cheek in his voice. “Come, let's have some breakfast.”  
  


\---------------------  
  



End file.
